


Folding Stars

by SiwgrGalon



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Alec Lightwood, Immortal Husbands, Immortality, M/M, Sad, except nobody dies (just yet), slow goodbyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiwgrGalon/pseuds/SiwgrGalon
Summary: Alec had been prepared for every issue, every loss he would have to face after becoming immortal.Except this one.And he'd never expected it to be so heartbreaking.
Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Maryse Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 13
Kudos: 128





	Folding Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I've kept the details around Alec's immortality deliberately vague – how he got there is not the main focus here. As always, I also don't have a beta, but the hours of editing that went into this will hopefully have paid off. 
> 
> If you want this to potentially really wreck you, listen to Biffy Clyro's Folding Stars – not only does it have the same title, it heavily inspired this piece.

The low sound of fragile hands folding strips of paper, accompanied by a quiet symphony of relaxed breaths, is the only sound in the room for a long time.

The clock on the wall doesn't count, Alec thinks, its monotone ticking so barely audible it automatically fades into the background.

Across from him, Maryse Lightwood sits bent over a heap of paper strips in all sorts of colors, folding stars of varying sizes with the patience of a saint.

'Why are you folding these?' Alec had asked.

'They're supposed to bring luck and protection to the bearer.'

That was the only interaction they have had. Maryse had gone back to her crafting almost immediately, leaving her son to take her in and wonder.

She is far from the strong, capable warrior she once was. Her skin is paper thin where it stretches over her joints and her hair has long gone completely gray, yet she still dresses elegantly. Someone - whether it was the nurse or Maryse herself - has pinned up her hair in an elegant French twist, with only a few strands escaping to frame her well-aged face.

To Alec, she is still the most beautiful woman on the planet.

'Who are you?' she asks into the silence, squinting at her son in confusion.

'It's me... Alec,' he says, hoping for the flicker of recognition.

Nothing.

A bad day then.

It shouldn't hurt that much - it's not the first one she's had, after all - but the stabbing pain in his heart makes Alec's whole body freeze up for a second. He feels the cold and dread spread, immobilizing his limbs and his brain so all he can do is stare.

'Alec,' Maryse murmurs, picking an iridescent strip of paper that will make a beautiful start once finished. Silence settles once more.

'That's what my son is called,' she says.

'He's such a handsome boy. And you should see his husband, too - they make such a beautiful pair.'

Alec chuckles. It's only then, at the slightly wet sound of his own voice, that he realizes tears are starting to gather in his eyes. Very attractively, it is followed by the usual effect of his nose slowly starting to clog up, because what he really needs and wants right now is to appear a blubbering mess.

He takes a steadying breath, his hand reaching out over the table before he reconsiders.

Maryse may not be her old self anymore, but she's still feisty and deceptively strong for an old lady. Last time someone touched her on a bad day, Jace found himself with a black eye.

So the Shadowhunter leans back with a quiet sigh, drawing his arm back and looking at the mother who doesn't recognize him.

'Tell me about him?'

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, and it feels all sorts of wrong to ask his mother about himself, but the nurses said it might help her memory, might bring her out of the funk her brain is putting her into, and at this point Alec is willing to try anything.

Anything for another minute with his mom, untouched by age and this fucking disease that's slowly eroding her brain, drawing her further and further away from her children and into a world that seems terrifying beyond belief.

In short: Alec's worst nightmare.

He has faced down countless demons, been to actual hell... met his father in law, who himself is a prince of hell, and yet this here is what scares him the most.

His mother no longer recognizing him.

He and Magnus had debated his immortality and the issues it would raise for so long, going through every scenario to draw up contingency plans that would help Alec cope with the inevitable loss of his family.

But not this, they never thought of this.

Shadowhunters don't die like this. They aren't afforded the almost-luxury of time, to slowly grow old and gray until finally falling asleep forever in the peaceful comfort of their homes.

They die young and fast and violently, or any combination of the three. Even those deruned, like Maryse, rarely meet a slow end; too many don't even make it through a whole year without the protection of their runes and the Clave until they meet their untimely end, be it at the hand of a demon, Downworlder, or fellow Shadowhunter.

(The latter two, Alec has to admit, have sharply declined since the Downworlder-Shadowhunter Alliance had been founded. It is an inconsequential drop of relief in the ocean of his sorrow.)

That's how Robert had gone: short and quick, a deadly hit on a mission he only went on because his institute had been shortstaffed. At least Max, no matter how grown up he might be these days, didn't have to witness it firsthand.

That's how Jace is probably going to go, although that particular box is something Alec is entirely unwilling to open before it actually come to it.

But of course Maryse Lightwood would resist any of these notions. Stubborn as a mule and resilient as Chinese Evergreen, she had always defied the odds.

She'd left the Circle and survived.

She'd been deruned and survived.

She'd turned from a strict matriarch into a warm, loving mother, showering her children in the affection she denied them for so long.

She'd come around on her eldest son, from seeing his sexuality as a transgression that needed stubbing out to a supportive ally cheering on his every step.

She'd led his husband, her son in law, down the aisle, for Angel's sake.

Seeing Maryse like this, a shadow of her former self, wasn't fair.

It makes Alec want to weep, but he refuses to show any form of weakness in front of his mother. She had been so strong for him when she turned her back on the Circle and decided on giving her toddler son a new future; now it was his turn to be strong, to not let impossible odds get to him.

A slow breath breaks him from his reverie, his eyes snapping back up to look at the woman in front of him.

Despite her age, her fingers are still nimble as she folds another paper strip into a star, a pleased smile crossing her face when it turns out especially perfect.

'Oh, he is wonderful, my Alec,' she starts.

'Very handsome, of course, but polite and whip-smart and stubborn as both his father and I. We... had to flee to New York when he was little, just about four years old, and he was such a trooper about it. Never a complaint or a whine; he just took it on the chin.'

'So... he's quite serious then?'

Alec knows he's pushing it, he probably really shouldn't go there because it's only a way to get hurt more.

But he's seen his mother's face light up when she talked about him, her eyes sparkling as if she was young and healthy and whole again, and he wants to give her more of that.

She deserves the world, but these brief moments of respite are all her eldest son can give her. So he will.

'Not a first, no. He was actually a really gentle child,' Maryse muses, her fingers already busy on the next star.

'But... things happened. I cannot say why, I really can't, but the culture we come from demanded he grow up quick. I had another baby - my beautiful, clever Isabelle - on the way and Alec was destined to take over the family business, so my husband started training him. Get the gentle out of him, he said, and make him into a real man.'

A pause. Alec waits with bated breath, but doesn't push Maryse to continue. With the hint of nausea settling low in his stomach, he doesn't even know whether he wants her to.

But after a moment of consideration and a triumphant crow as she finishes the tricky little paper star - something Alec reacts to with a slight smile - Maryse ploughs on.

'And he did so well. Incredibly well. It was hard, and my husband and I often disagreed, but our little boy was like this sponge just soaking up knowledge,' she says, fondness coloring her voice in the warmest tones.

'When he started to speak, it was always 'why? how?' - over and over, as if he couldn't get enough. But then, when he started learning, I'd find him sitting next to his sister's bed at night, telling her all the important things she'd need to know to become a good Shado...'

She catches herself, swallowing as if to hold back the rest of that word.

'The best in our profession.'

It speaks volumes about her state of mind that she doesn't seem to have noticed the runes on Alec's skin, hasn't immediately filed them away as 'one of us'.

Or maybe it's the opposite.

Nobody really knows how aware Maryse is of her brain slowly failing her, or how much knowledge remains.

But all of a sudden it hits Alec that, as a deruned Shadowhunter, she'd be extra vigilant around strangers bearing runes. After all, she evaded the Circle's fractured membership for decades to keep her family safe and was deruned not much later.

All her life, Maryse Lightwood had a big, fat target painted on her front and back, and she's made it this far.

Of course she wouldn't give him details. For all he knows, she could think he's out to get her son, so caution is key.

Instead of asking more questions, Alec throws a simple 'you sound proud' into the room.

He's been chewing his lip, he realizes, a faint metallic taste proving he's drawn blood.

'I am,' his mother says, finally looking up.

'Proud doesn't begin to cover it. He struggled so much - you know, he came out as gay quite late in life, and actually... while at the altar and just about to get married to a woman. It caused a great big scandal, of course, and I am ashamed to admit I wasn't best pleased, but he always finds his way, that one.'

A sob breaks free, and suddenly Alec feels helpless like never before. He's not been unsure around his own mother for a long time, but this - seeing her clearly distraught while she doesn't recognize him - makes his walls crumble.

He's out of his seat in a flash, kneeling down next to Maryse and taking her hands delicately into his. The difference in size and texture is startling, but after a second of quiet wonder he wraps her fingers in his as if storing the most precious of gems.

'I'm sure he forgave you,' he murmurs, unable to raise his voice any further.

'Please don't cry.'

But once the floodgates are open, there is no stopping them. Alec knows the feeling too well, and his mother is no different it seems. Well, he had to get it from somewhere. 

'I was so cruel, not only to him but also to his partner later,' she cries, struggling against Alec's hold of her.

With a pained sigh, he lets go but doesn't get up. He doesn't want any distance between them for this.

'I was heartless, as was his father. We said he'd tarnished the family name, we didn't stop nasty comments or rumors at work... we gave him no support. There was my brave boy, standing up for himself, and all I could think of was honor in the eyes of a few bigoted bastards.'

Alec flinches at the choice of words, but not in a bad way. His mother has never been one for excessive swearing, and while her confirming his biggest fears at the time hurts - oh, how it hurts - he's a little bit proud of her turning on the Clave.

It's not healing the newly opened wounds just yet, it can't, but it's a plaster that will allow him to keep his composure for now.

'I turned around after some time, began to appreciate him, but it was too late. It will forever be too late.' Although the picture of authoritative composure, Maryse is practically radiating pain as she speaks.

'He said he forgave me, but how could he? After I was so callous and cruel? I insulted his partner, I insulted _him_ , and yet he still let me back into his life - how do I deserve this? How did my child manage to keep his gentle heart, despite our best efforts to force it out of him?'

Alec can't hold it in any longer.

'Because he loves you,' he whispers, catching his mother's flailing hands once more and pressing a kiss to the brittle skin.

'He loves you very much, and he has so many regrets of his own.'

Not coming out sooner. Not standing up to his parents sooner. Asking Lydia to marry him, causing unnecessary hurt in the process.

Not making it clear that really, he has forgiven his mother. He didn't even hesitate to do it.

'How would you know?'

The question feels as if someone has emptied a bucket of ice water over Alec's head. He's flailing for emotional purchase, for something to say, when the soft rapping of knuckles on wood interrupts the moment.

Of course Magnus would choose this moment to arrive. The ice bucket feeling is replaced by a surge of affection, warming the Shadowhunter up from the inside and giving him new hope.

'Magnus,' Maryse crows delightedly. She gingerly gets up and walks towards the warlock, who in turn helps close the distance between them to meet the woman in a strong embrace.

'How is my favorite son in law doing?'

Alec's resolve not to cry finds itself on increasingly shaky ground. How can his mother remember Magnus but not recognize her own child?

 _Because you’re supposed to look your age, not around 30 years old,_ the voice in his head whispers. _Because her brain can’t compute that you’re immortal, that you physically stopped ageing almost 40 years ago and won’t ever start again unless you break your bond with Magnus.’_

'Not too bad,' Magnus replies.

'All the better for seeing the sunshine that is your face.'

Maryse swats at him, playful and undisturbed. Her laughter makes Alec's heart hurt and soar at the same time, as he sees the guardedness she displayed when talking to him just slip away.

It's almost as if his mother is back again, except with gray hair and a body that lasted her longer than anyone thought possible.

'Where did you leave my son? Is he working again?'

Just like that, the mood turns somber. Hesitation seeps into Magnus' features as he captures his husband's eyes over Maryse's head, but Alec just shrugs.

His heart has been through so much already, he can take whatever comes his way now. With Magnus here, he'll weather any storm.

'He's right there,' the warlock says, carefully, pointing towards Alec.

'He's been keeping you company all day.'

When Maryse turns, her face is painted in shades of shock and embarrassment. She hurries over to her child, falling to her knees in front of him and - going by the wince shaking her body - ignoring the pain her actions causes.

'Oh,' she sobs out, and then she throws herself at her son with a force that means all he can do is hold on.

'Oh, Alec, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, darling.'

'No, mom,' he whispers, drawing back and wiping the tears off her cheeks. Someone has to be strong now, and that someone is him.

'There's nothing to be sorry about. It's not your fault; you're not doing this on purpose.'

As if mirroring his gestures, she reaches up to cup his face. Her thumbs gently run over his cheeks, and suddenly Alec is very, very small and scared of the dark again.

'How can I not remember my child? How could I forget you, Alec, of all people on this world?'

'It's okay, mom,' the Shadowhunter repeats, almost like a mantra.

'No, it's not,' his mother argues, hugging him once more. If the shoulder of Alec's dress shirt turns wet at record speed, he doesn't say anything - simply holds on and soothes, like his mother did for him when he was little and terrified.

'I forgive you,' he breathes into her hair, putting all the conviction and love that he feels for this suddenly so fragile human being into his voice.

'I have forgiven you for everything the moment you accepted Magnus into your life. I will forgive you everything for as long as you wander the earth, and even once you don't I'll carry that forgiveness with me for as long as I live.'

'That's going to feel like forever.' Maryse sounds astonished, as if she's only just realized the gravitas of that particular situation.

But trust Magnus to break the tension, with a gleeful 'literally' being his own contribution to the conversation.

They dissolve into laughter, the three of them, as the warlock comes over to embrace two generations of Lightwoods.

'I think I need a nap,' Maryse announces, carefully wiping her eyes as she lets both men help her up. She doesn't seem tired, but Alec can see that this particular episode must have taken a lot out of her.

He never knows how much she remembers of these, doesn't know if he wants to know, but it can't be easy on her mind. So he hugs her closer once more, inhaling the scent of her hair - fresh apple, like it has been for as long as he has been on this earth - and drawing comfort from the fact that he can still do this.

Magnus takes his turn, too, and together they amble towards Maryse's room. Like her personal royal guard, her security detail, her safety blanket on a rainy day.

Their joined hands swing between them, a sign of unity that allows Alec to draw strength for the goodbye that always feels as if it will be the last.

One last hug. One last smell. His mother squeezes him as tight as she can - a move that betrays the strength she once possesses.

'I'm sorry you have to witness me like this,' she murmurs, so low that only Alec can hear.

'Nonsense,' her eldest replies, pressing a long kiss to her cheek.

'I love you, mom. This - all of this, having you for this long - is an honor, not a chore.'

He can feel her breath hitch so he lets go, stepping back. With a watery smile, Maryse blows Magnus a kiss before vanishing into her room.

'Ready?'

Magnus captures his husband's hand, tangling their fingers and squeezing tight.

'Or do you need a minute?'

'No. Let's go home.'

All of a sudden, Alec doesn't want to be here any longer. He doesn't want the stark reminder of his mother's deteriorating condition, of the heartbreak that lies in his not all-too-distant future.

They had debated whether a mundane assisted living facility would actually work, if it would be appropriate. But there's no way he or Izzy or Jace can care for Maryse - Alec and Magnus are too busy, as much as they make time to visit her at least once a week, and the others are equally as busy while also aging themselves.

But it's more than that. Alec knows his mother is safe here, knows she has company and care and people who actually know what they're doing, how to help, how to ensure Maryse Lightwood is as comfortable as she can possibly be. Her brain is in safe hands, too, gently cradled in the palm of medicine and the care of the doctors and nurses of staff.

Still, he meant it when he said he had regrets.

'You're awfully quiet,' Magnus observes, free of judgment or accusation.

'It's been a lot,' Alec answers.

'Bad day?'

This time, he only hums, too tender to go into the details. Magnus slings an arm around the other man's waist, drawing his partner in close and pressing a kiss to his temple.

'I'm sorry,' he murmurs, and Alec feels incredulous.

'What do you have to be sorry for?'

'I'm the cause of this. Without me, you would never have to surpass your family's lifespan.'

'Magnus, no.' Alec forces them to stop, turning towards Magnus and grasping his shoulders.

'You didn't force me. This is my choice. I want to be with you, even if I need to overcome pain. I may regret a lot of things in my life, but this - forever with you? - is not one of them.'

The answering smile doesn't quite reach Magnus' eyes. Instead of pressing on with words, Alec ducks down to kiss sense into his partner - something that seems to work better, because when they come up for air most of the tension has left the warlock's body.

'Let's go home,' Alec says, tiredness sweeping over his entire being all of a sudden.

'I'm exhausted.'

'Very well.' Magnus leads the way to the exit in a comfortable wander, lacking any urgency. It's one of his qualities that Alec loves the most - the warlock's ability to defuse most situations by simply taking his time - but there's an itch below his skin, an uneasy feeling.

Now that they're alone, his emotions are a swirling mess with free reign over his brain, and Alec knows he'll crack.

Alec thinks he's reached breaking point when he realizes they've passed the common room and he sprints back, like a man possessed. For a split second he's terrified that the staff have already cleared out the space, and it's a spike in his pulse he could've done without.

But they haven't. The table mother and son sat at is still in its original state, strewn with tens and hundreds of little stars.

'What are these?' Magnus' voice is quiet, almost a whisper, as he takes in the sight.

'She folds them,' Alec whispers back.

'For luck and protection, although she didn't say for whom. I don't know. I don't think she knows.'

He hates how his voice wavers and breaks on the last words, the reality of the situation crashing over him like a cresting wave.

This is it. The beginning of the end - or maybe the middle? Either way, this is his life now. A pearlstring of losses, some slower than the others, but all painful in their own right.

His mother will never be the same again, will never again praise his vastly improved cooking, never again play with the cats or tease her children or simply curl up on their sofa, a glass of wine and embarrassing childhood photos in the other.

A hiccup that sounds suspiciously like a sob forces itself out of Alec's throat. Magnus reacts at record speed, conjuring up a glass and scooping the stars inside.

'What are you doing?' Alec hisses, the action a momentary distraction from his internal turmoil.

'If anyone can need luck and protection, it's you,' Magnus says, his free hand tenderly running into Alec's hair.

'Because I hate to say this Alexander, but this will be devastating. And I will be with you every step of the way, but there are thing even I can't help with.'

With that, Magnus places the iridescent star - the one Alec thought looked special and particularly perfect - on top of the full jar. When offered the chance to hold it, Alec carries the... arrangement almost reverently, carefully cradling it to his chest as he watches Magnus glamour the two of them and create a portal.

It's irresponsible, yes, and he should probably say something to that extent, but all Alec wants to do it go home, shower, and have a nap.

It never comes that far.

Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane makes it from the living area, where they arrive and he places his precious cargo on the coffee table, to the balcony doors before a sob breaks free.

They thought of everything. Of all the possibilities, all the deaths that would try to wreck his heart, to smash it into a million pieces.

Everything, except this.

Everything, except his mother slowly losing herself to a disease that cannot be stopped, that will only grow even worse than it already is.

Alec doesn't realize he's said these things out loud before Magnus hugs him, tight and full of affection and perfect in that way only the warlock can be.

And finally, finally, the Shadowhunter lets himself break down, his husband's soothing words a constant reminder that this, too, shall pass.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, okay? This lockdown week has been a bit hard, and apparently writing angst fic full of heartbreak is my coping mechanism. I'm not even 100% sure how much I like this, but this idea has been bugging me for a bit and I felt the absolute need to write it down. So here we are. 
> 
> As mentioned, the title is taken from the Biffy Clyro song of the same name - this is [my favourite version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlsskbWMSlc), but you'll find plenty more online.
> 
> If you liked it, please leave kudos, comments, or feel free to shout at me [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/SiwgrGalon). 
> 
> Otherwise – until next time. I'll bring happier fare, I promise.


End file.
